A Letter for Sherlock
by Mycroft-mione
Summary: Sherlock and John are brothers living in the town where wizard legend Harry Potter grew up. One day, John gets a letter from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry but his science-loving brother does not. How will Sherlock cope with being alone? Kidlock, no pairing.
1. At King's Cross Station

**A/N: Sorry this is only 600 words. I'll make the next chapter longer!**

Young Sherlock Watson shuffled his feet dolefully, a used trunk and his brother John at his side, silently waiting for the Hogwarts Express at Platform 9 3/4, King's Cross Station. He was surrounded by a flurry of middle-grade children socializing and saying teary goodbyes to their parents. He felt very alone. Suddenly, the large red clock mounted on the wall across from him ticked loudly and an old-fashioned steam engine appeared out of nowhere on the tracks. The mass of teenagers and scared-looking first years fought their way into the train until only a few parents, forgotten pet frogs, and packets of potion ingredients remained on the platform. Sherlock lowered his head and slowly trudged back away from the tracks as the clock chimed 9:00 and the Hogwarts Express shot away into the English countryside, with John Watson on it. Sherlock slipped back through the magical barrier and met up with his parents, the Watsons.

The drive back to Sherlock's home in Little Whinging, Surrey, was quiet. Sherlock had put on his favorite black trench coat and was playing with one of the buttons on it. He twisted it back and forth, back and forth, until finally the ferocity with which he was twisting was too much for the button and it popped off his coat with a ripping sound.

"Figures," the eleven year-old muttered to himself.

"What was that, Sherlock?" his mother said, turning around in her seat of the car to look at him.

"'That'? It's a word in the dictionary, Mum. Comes after 'thanks'."

"Sherlock!"

"Well, what am I supposed to say?"

"You're supposed... to be happy for John, not moaning and groaning like you are!" cried Mrs. Watson crossly.

"I don't care!" Sherlock replied, and dug his face into his ripped coat for the rest of the ride. It took a strong tug on his arm for Sherlock's father to get his son up when they pulled into their driveway. Sherlock walked quickly into the house, not looking back, with his head held stiffly high but one tear dripping down his face.

* * *

Sherlock entered the room that he had used to share with John. He gazed at the blank walls that were once plastered with posters of football teams and reached for his picture of the periodic table that John had never let him hang. He got a piece of tape and stabbed the picture onto the wall with all of his might. It fell to the floor.

_What's so special about John? Why couldn't I go too?_ he thought to himself.

He snatched the poster off the cold hard-wooded floor and ripped it in two.

_I bet there's no such thing as magic. There can't be._

He ripped it again, this time with more force.

_I can tell anything about anyone. Everyone says so. They say I'm the smartest kid in Britain._

He shredded the paper with his lean, nimble fingers but gasped in pain and started nursing a paper cut.

_But he goes to a magic school and not me? What's wrong with me, then?_

He fell backwards onto his bed and curled into a ball. _I know what's wrong with me. I'm not one of them. Who knows where my real parents are? I can't go to Hogwarts because nobody wants me but John and Mum and Dad. Now one of them is gone. And he'll never want to come back._


	2. On the Train

**A/N: Chapter two. Here we go!**

* * *

John grabbed his trunk, making sure that his wand was still safely stowed in his trouser pocket. It was amazing to have a wand, a _real magic wand_, that he could do _anything_ with! He could make ice cream whenever he wanted it, and win all his football games, and...and...make the mean kids at school leave Sherlock alone!

Sherlock, he remembered. He leaned out the door of the rapidly accelerating train and waved goodbye before the Hogwarts Express sped away.

It was just amazing, going to Diagon Alley, seeing that woman carrying dragon scales in her cart like it was the natural-ist thing. He had stepped into Ollivander's, and been in awe of the shelves and shelves _completely_ full of wands. Mr. Ollivander had been muttering incoherently, like he was in a trance...it was a bit frightening, actually... but then John tried the right wand, and it had shot green sparks without him doing anything at all! _Willow, 10 1/2 inches, with a dragon heartstring core,_ Mr. Ollivander had said. It sounded perfect.

John turned around, facing the inside of the train, where he could hear hundreds of teenagers laughing and talking. He walked cautiously up the aisle, trying to find a compartment. The first one he walked into held two older boys. John opened his mouth to speak nervously.

"Is this seat tak─" he said.

"Get out of here, first year!" they barked.

"Sorry?" he answered, backing out of the compartment as the teenagers went back to playing Exploding Snap─yet another new wizard's game that he had learned about in Diagon Alley. He had bought his first Exploding Snap deck at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes and played a few hands with Sherlock on the car ride to London. He hoped no one would notice his missing eyebrows.

John stepped towards the next compartment. He let out a deep breath, seeing that it was empty. He slid open the glass door and placed his trunk on the floor, stretching and yawning loudly.

"OUCH!" someone cried.

"Agghhh!" screamed John, scared. "What was that?!"

"By _that_ do you mean _me_?" said the voice, as a small boy's body appeared in front of him, rubbing his foot mournfully. "I'm Albus."

"Hi!" said John brightly, now that he had gotten over his shock. He closed the glass door. "Well...what's your... full name?"

"Do I have to?" said Albus. "It's not exactly fair for you to walk in here, drop a trunk on my foot, and then demand to know my name."

"Oh, I'm sorry," said John anxiously.

"Nah, it's okay. I'm Albus Severus Potter."

"Merlin! Really?! Your dad? He's the coolest..the awesomest...wow!"

"See, _that_ was why I didn't want to say it," grumbled Albus.

"It's okay, I won't tell anyone," John reassured him. "So..what was that? The disappearing─I mean, appearing thing? Is that _normal_ for wizards?!" he asked, incredulously. He raised his eyebrows, doubtful that his newfound friend was in any way normal. Not that John minded, or anything; he knew what 'not normal' felt like, after being _Sherlock Watson_'s brother. _Sherlock_... John felt another brief pang of homesickness, but it quickly disappeared.

"All right. You know, I wouldn't tell anyone...but, you know, since you're pretty cool..." Albus teased him, dragging out the words as slowly as he could.

"Tell me!" yelled John excitedly.

"I have an Invisibility Cloak!"

"Blimey, Albus," said John seriously. "I didn't know those were real. There was something about one in my school books, but I─"

"Oh no. You're not a teacher's pet, are you?! I hate that," said Albus, cross.

"No. Just excited, I guess."

"Well, I got mine from my dad. Bet you didn't know he had an Cloak of Invisibility when he was at Hogwarts?" Albus said curiously. John shook his head.

"So can I try it?"

"Umm...well...Dad said not to use it too much, but...after what _he_ did..."

John laughed.

"All right," said Albus. the two of them spread out the cloak on Albus's lap and lifted it over their heads. John looked down at his feet excitedly, expectantly.

"They're gone!─my feet, I mean."

"I know," said Albus, grinning broadly. "Mine too."

Suddenly John heard footsteps from the corridor.

"Get it off!" he whispered urgently. He and Albus quickly balled the cloak up and shoved it behind Albus. The silvery cloth, shimmering with rainbow colors, was concealed behind his Muggle jacket just in time, as the train's cart lady appeared by their compartment door a moment later.

"Some sweets, dear?" she inquired. "There's pumpkin pasties, lollies, Drooble's Best Blowing Gum..."

She widened her eyes, waiting for an answer.

"Oh, we're fine," said John. "In fact, we'd best be getting our robes on now..."

"We what?!" cried Albus. "Is your brain rotted?! Of course we want some!"

He pulled out a small brown money purse in his pocket.

"One of everything, please."

The cart lady gaped.

"I can't take any," said John politely, as she rolled onward, having given them their sweets. He only had a few Galleons for the whole year, and wanted to spend them wisely. The Watsons weren't exactly rich. John couldn't blow all his new wizard money on sweets, but he was too proud to accept anything from the obviously wealthy yet nice boy named Albus.

"Oh, shut up," said Albus, and slid over the towering pile of food. "Hurry, now, I want to try some spells before we have to get changed. Don't you?"

"Anything!" said John happily. "I can't wait to get there!"

* * *

**A/N: And... scene.**

**So─that was chapter two! Thoughts? I know its been awhile, but I hope this chapter was satisfactory. It looks like I'll be alternating between Sherlock (angsty fail writing for now) and John (happy fun days─_oh wait, I'm missing my best friend and brother, Sherlock_). Unless─UNLESS─something really important happens and I need to have two of the same POV in a row. But that probably won't happen. :)**

**You're going to review...and favorite...and follow...right? I said, RIGHT? *threatens pathetically with fists* No, I won't force you, (*sighs*) but if you do, I'll be your best friend and give you cookies! Yay!**

**-Love from, Myc**


	3. Letters from Home

**A/N: A series of letters from _Sherlock to John_. Not all letters sent are shown, for space reasons...**

**Enjoy! Review please! Constructive criticism, praise, suggestions: I like it all!**

* * *

Dear John,

This is the first day I'm writing you. Before I couldn't stand it and I tried to forget you but I couldn't. It feels so surreal I can't even explain, not having you here. I just realized that you've gone off to be a wizard and you're not coming back.

[I hope this gets to you all right, we put it in the post with three air-travel stamps just in case.]

Why did you go? Why did you get the letter and not me? Why did you leave me?

When are you coming back?

─Sherlock

* * *

Dear John,

I went to school today. Mother had been trying to make me go to school for a week but I said no. Finally I went because I couldn't stand to be in our room all day long without you there too. Remember when we pretended to have the flu so that we could skip? We ran around to get our foreheads hot and lay in bed like we were sick. Mother didn't believe us then, but now she has let me stay home even though my forehead's cool, because she knows it's real this time.

Now I'm sitting here on the bed, but I'm on the bottom bunk. Mother took off the top bunk of the bed today because she said we wouldn't need it anymore, and I'd have more space. Now I have to sleep on the bottom bunk where you used to. The only one I talk to is Demosthenes, the skull on the bookshelf. I'm lonely.

Dad finally stopped putting out a plate at your spot at the table at night. He had been for a week and now it's just the three of us, eating pork chops and asparagus. I never touch my plate and he doesn't say a word about it.

It's like they're trying to forget about you.

Come back, John.

─Sherlock

* * *

Dear John,

What do you even do there?

Transfiguration? That's impossible. Matter is never created or destroyed. There would be lots of missing matter if you suddenly made an elephant into a mouse. Where does it all go? ...Charms? You can't make things fly. I was looking at your textbook before you left and it said 'Wingardium Leviosa' made things fly. Well to fly you need an engine and lots of fuel, not some stupid little stick of wood!

It seems so impossible that you're going off to a castle to learn magic things. When we went to Diagon Alley I was so excited to see the wand shop, and the apothecary, and the big wizard bank. But it's all so far away now it feels like a dream.

If your wand is so great, then why can't you use it to bring me to Hogwarts with you?

─Sherlock

* * *

Dear John,

I've written and I've written but you don't reply. Why not? Am I not good enough for you anymore? Did you find some other friend that you like more than me? If you'd only come back I'd stop doing experiments for a month. I mean it! Please?

I had a dream last night that I could do magic too. We were both at school and learning things and being together. But then someone kicked me aside and everything disappeared. I was back here in my bedroom. It was years later and you had never come back.

Why didn't you, John?

─Sherlock

* * *

Dear John,

I hope you like your dumb magic school. Today at school I got beat up by the Crowley brothers. I got a sprained wrist and my head hurts. We're going to the doctor tomorrow. Didn't you used to want to be a doctor someday?

Hope you're having fun leaving me with those kids for a year.

─Sherlock

* * *

Dear John,

In Latin we had to say three sentences about our best friend. I talked about Demosthenes.

Everybody laughed. I cried.

Please please please write me back?

─Sherlock

* * *

John:

I give up. I've tried, and tried, and you never answered me. I've written thirty letters and you never responded. I guess you don't care about your family at all. You know, every week I used to write a fake letter from you to give to Mother and Dad. So they wouldn't worry. But I won't do that anymore. They should know that their son isn't the nice little wizard he says he is.

Goodbye, brother. I hope you have lots of friends up in the castle of yours. After what you've done to me, I'm certainly no longer one of them.

─Sherlock


	4. A Day in the Life

**A/N: An update! Finally! Although this is way behind schedule, I think I've redeemed myself for writing 2,286 words! All for you, my dears! :) Normally I don't even reach the 1,800 mark. So since I've written this much in one chapter, would you please review? I'd really appreciate it, no matter what you say!**

**And of course, the obligatory remark: I own nothing but my characterizations, my storyline, and my few OCs. Cheers to that!**

* * *

Every morning in Gryffindor Tower, John Hamish Watson awoke in his four-poster bed, emerging from his warm cocoon of soft sheets and red quilts, and grinned at the realization that he was at Hogwarts. He would simply lie in his bed, thinking about the excitement that that day would bring, as ripples of morning sunlight poured into the room through the heavily draped single window beside John's bed. Every day the same ritual began ─ one by one, not soon after, the other inhabitants of John's first year dormitory would be roused, stretching their arms and yawning loudly, before their daily frenzy to get dressed and head to the Great Hall for breakfast. John sat with his new friends and roommates: Kenneth Finnigan, Hugo Weasley, and, of course, Albus Potter. They had all been sorted into Gryffindor together a few weeks before, after John and Albus' eventful interduction on the school train. The four were also fortunate enough to be in most the same classes. _Spending the days with friends like these_, John reasoned, _nothing could possibly spoil the fun_, despite the endless homework doled out daily by his professors.

Speaking of homework - John was accustomed to finishing the previous day's homework at breakfast each day, as he did this one particular day. Events such as Exploding Snap Tournaments and the like were constant distractions in Gryffindor Tower that John couldn't help but pay attention to, even participate in (as he sometimes did ─ Albus had discovered John's talent in the game while in a fit of boredom during their long ride to Hogwarts). But it wasn't even that John always let his attention wander ─ he was constantly plagued by Lucy Weasley, Hugo's irritating cousin, who made it her business to bother John about finishing his schoolwork whenever he was caught not being studious. It was exponentially fortunate, he thought, that Lucy had been born female; otherwise she would be a nuisance in their dormitory as well as their common room.

So John sat down at the table, scrambling to imitate completion of the foot-long Transfiguration scroll that was due in only an hour, while digging in to a piece of buttered toast and jam. Albus passed him a mug of pumpkin juice, and John responded with a grateful smile.

"Thanks, mate."

"Sure. Hey, what's that you're writing?" Albus asked, inspecting the parchment. "Something for McGonagall? Just hand it in as is, she'll never notice it's too short, with her old eyes and all."

"Maybe you're all right with an A, but I intend to get E's at least in all my classes this year," said John, teasing his friend. He hadn't actually been the smart one back at home, Sherlock had been ─ but no one at school knew that.

"Oh come on, John, you're Muggle-born! Your parents would hardly know if an A was better or worse than an O! I'm the one at a disadvantage. Mum and Dad know all about the grades, and they'll go nuts at me if I don't do well this year."

Kenneth snickered. "Well, your dad was hardly a model student, Albus," he retorted.

"Did I hear 'model student'?" cried Lucy. "Was Professor Longbottom talking about me?"

Practically the entire Gryffindor table rolled its eyes in response to her query. Suddenly, a cloud of owls appeared in the rafters of the Great Hall, swooping over the tables to deliver the students' letters, table by table. John personally loved the owls, although he rarely ─ never ─ got letters from his family back home. It was just the rush of excitement, the flurry of opening letters and parcels. Often a package would be sent to the Gryffindor table, and all those present would be able to share in the goodies. So even the disappointment of not receiving mail was made up for by the fun of the occasion.

"Nothing?" asked Albus, anticipating the answer. "It's all right. My dad says that he never got a single thing from back home when he went to Hogwarts, except for an old sock at Christmas!"

"Ew," answered John. "Lucky me, then," he said, smiling at the thought. His comment had begun sarcastically, but ended earnestly. _Did that kind of thing actually happen? It wasn't so bad, then, to get nothing..._

John and his friends finished eating, and then returned with the others to the Gryffindor dormitory for a minute to clean up before heading to their first class of the morning. Checking his schedule, John determined that it was Double Potions with the Slytherins.

"Great," he announced to the group. "Time to be forced to interact with Scorpius Malfoy."

"Aw..." they answered together. It was a running joke that everyone hated the Slytherins ─ even after the historic Battle of Hogwarts had been fought, and everyone had learned that the house a person is placed in doesn't really matter. At times John felt bad about the joke, since it was at someone's expense, but it was pretty funny. Scorpius, son of the infamous Draco Malfoy, was a rather mean boy who was irritatingly stuck up about his family's lineage. Most people no longer cared about such things, but some held their beliefs long after the others' had faded.

When they arrived at the potions dungeon, Professor Yvaine was waiting for them at the door.

"I don't think I have to tell you that you're late," she grumbled at them as they entered the room carrying their book bags. John turned to Albus, asking as silent question with his raised eyebrows. _Weren't they on time?_

Albus shrugged, apparently just as lost as John. It was a 'your guess is as good as mine' kind of look. 'Don't look at me!' it seemed to say. But the pair shouldn't have been surprised. Professor Yvaine had never quite taken a liking to them.

"Aw, just get in here. _As I was saying_..."

The classroom, relieved that the conflict had ended, lapsed into a room of dazed stupor, as the professor discussed with herself the potion ingredients found in South America. John received some sympathetic looks in response his chastising, which quickly stopped as the lecture began to resemble one of Professor Binn's infamous ones. As if finally noticing that the class was bored, Yvaine asked Hugo a question out of the blue.

"Mr. Weasley... what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Obviously, Hugo had absolutely no idea. He wasn't a fan of potions... or reading in general. Hugo was always talking about how he wanted to be a beater on the wasps one day ─ and John was pretty sure he had already lost the required number of brain cells for the job by playing Quidditch as a kid. He stifled a chuckle.

"Mr. Weasley?" she repeated.

"I don't know, Ma'am," Hugo answered quickly.

"Had you had even a speck of knowledge in that puny mind of yours, you would have known that asphodel and wormwood form a potion so deadly, so complex, it is known as the Draught of Living Death. Perhaps I'll feed some to your owl, and then perhaps you'll learn."

Hugo blanched.

"Mercutio," he mumbled softly, thinking of his poor owl. Fortunately, the professor, whose point had been made, diverted her attentions elsewhere. John's eyebrows crinkled in indignation on Hugo's behalf. _What right did she have to bully them?_ Albus, who could sense John getting angry, laid a hand on his friend's forearm.

"Hey," he whispered. "It's not worth it, she'll just take points."

"Fine. But this isn't over!" he muttered. However, it soon was. Once John had cooled down, he could see clearly that he was acting like his old self. A rash, excitable kid who was so used to protecting his brother at home, that everything said was a personal attack against him. Knowing that his was the truth, John tried to let it go and just be happy ─ although this was never possible in Double Potions.

Well, the first years survived the otherwise-uneventful lesson; the only casualties being a lone kamikaze fly that plummeted into Professor Yvaine's cauldron, ruining her Sleeping Draught. John, Albus, and Kenneth headed back to the dormitory, while Hugo unhappily went to Muggle Studies. His mother had persuaded Headmistress (and Transfiguration Professor) McGonagall to allow her son to take the class a few years early, remembering her husband's shocking lack of Muggle knowledge as a child. Hugo was against it, but was given no choice in the matter.

So the trio entered the Gryffindor Common Room and were immediately greeted by Lucy.

"Hi! How was Potions?" she asked curiously. Apparently she had memorized his schedule. _Oo-kay_, thought John. _That's weird_. But as he stared past Lucy, eyes unfocused, he relived his first class of the day, remembering the incident with Hugo. "Ooh, John, are you all right? You don't look all right. It's Professor Yvaine, isn't it..."

The others talked to Lucy about what had happened, with more exaggerations now that Hugo was out of the room, and soon gathered a small crowd. They all chattered and laughed like monkeys, and John remained at the sidelines, not really listening, but hearing a distorted sound like they were speaking a different language. He returned to his own truthful recollection of the morning thus far. The professor had talked about something called 'asfodel' and 'worm-wood', so he didn't blame Hugo for being stumped. In fact, the scene pictured in his mind sounded like Sherlock would do ─ the asking of impossible questions just to show off one's own smarts. It was all right when he did it to John, but not a teacher to a kid!

_Sherlock_, he said to himself. John hadn't thought of that name clearly in many days, so it brought a wave of fresh homesickness to him. He missed his brother very much. it was all right to laugh about not having to listen to a mum or dad anymore; it was great having no one to tell them when to go to bed at night, for example. But one thing many of them had in common was missing siblings back at home, for they were their real lifelines. Hugo, for instance, never talked about his sister Rose, but it was obvious he missed her. They all did. Only, it was worse for John, because his sibling would never join them at Hogwarts, unlike those who had younger brothers or sisters.

Albus, who seemed to have finished telling his story, walked over to the armchair which John stood beside.

"Hi," he said. "What's up?"

John didn't answer, busy as he was wrapped up in his thoughts.

"Want some chocolate? I got it in the mail this morning, said Albus. Albus was smarter this time, using a strategy he was confident would work.

"What?!" exclaimed John, emerging instantly from himself. "Oh," he laughed. "You little─ I thought you actually had some!"

"Hey, it worked," replied Albus, shrugging. "Do you?─ oh, right, you didn't get anything this time." He tried to cover up his query, and then his mention of what was obviously a sensitive subject for John, but John had heard enough. He didn't mind.

"Nah, but it's fine."

In spite of the awkward silence that followed, the common room was still bursting with noise. The Fat Lady was covering her ears while trying to hold a conversation with her friend Violet. John took a deep breath, then spoke again.

"Hey, Albus?"

"Yeah? What's the matter?"

"Do─ d'you ever get letters from home? Because my br─ my parents said that they would send some, but I haven't gotten any." John rushed his words and then crossed his arms to counteract the 'weakness' he was afraid his words had conveyed.

"Sometimes. But, y'know, my parents, they're pureblood. Not that I care about that, but they have an owl. Since, well, your parents are Muggles, maybe they couldn't send you a letter because they don't have an owl? The letters might have gotten thrown out because no Muggles know where Hogwarts is," said Albus hopefully.

"Yeah. yeah, I bet you're right," answered John, feeling a bit better. Yet a nagging feeling remained, wiggling its way into his stomach and leaving a heavy weight there. "But I think I'm going to send one to them─ to make sure they haven't forgotten me," he managed, making it sound preposterous, like a joke, even though being forgotten was an actual worry of his.

"Okay, mate. See you later!"

"See you, Albus!"

* * *

Later that day, John emerged from his dormitory, tired from that day's classes, and walked to the owlery in hopes that he could make it before curfew hit. Upon his arrival, he selected a fine long eared owl from the lower rows of cages, attached his completed letter to its ankle, and sent it on its way out the window with a 'screech!'.

Hagrid, a big man who Albus had said was his father's friend, called to John while tending to an owl's injured claw. They had met only twice before, on the first day of school on the boats across the lake, and again at Hagrid's cabin when Albus had insisted they visit.

"'Ello there! All right, John? That letter 'o yours sent just now?"

"Yep, Professor Hagrid," John answered, in the shadow of the Care of Magical Creatures teacher. "If all goes well, it'll be there in a matter of days."

* * *

**A/N: Hope you liked it! Remember to review! :)**


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